


Party Of One

by RikkuShinra



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha Ardyn Izunia, Alpha Noctis Lucis Caelum, Alpha Prompto Argentum, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Gladiolus Amicitia, Omega Ignis Scientia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikkuShinra/pseuds/RikkuShinra
Summary: Five years ago everything changed in Ignis Scientia's life. He has been dedicating himself to his job at the Citadel-a marketing, and management firm based in Insomnia-Ignis has excelled. Now at the pinnacle of his career, Ignis can finally turn to the one thing that he desires starting a family. It is hard without a mate.Gladiolus has been by Ignis' side through thick and thin, especially the death of his husband five years ago. He watches his best friend dedicate his life and future to work hoping one day he can eventually find happiness. For better (or worse) Gladio is moving on in the most unlikely of places.Prompto has issues of his own, Prompto has traveled all of Eos for the newest scoop and seen things no one should ever see. After a trip to Gralea, he decides to prematurely retire from his globe-trotting reporting. Prompto works at Meteor Publishing alongside his best friend.Noctis wants nothing to do with the family business, as a local reporter for Meteor. Once a week he moonlights as a bartender, it is an even better distraction from the pile job invites that sit on his coffee table.Time always catches up, sometimes faster than what we expect.





	1. Everything's Fine

**Author's Note:**

> So I have been wanting to write an A/B/O fic for a while. I held off because I wanted to get a feel for the subgenre. Yet, this story kept bugging me and said ' write me, write me' so here is the first chapter (sorta). The rating will change as will the tags.

“Mr. Scientia, we will be arriving in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Talcott.” Ignis Scientia’s shielded eyes shift from the black tuxedoed driver and the luxurious leather seat to look out the rear passenger window examining the megalithic structures that tower into the skyline of central Insomnia. The sun shines off the top most windows of the buildings the only illumination the city will get for hours until the sun crest the distant wall and spills its warm rays into the bowl and the city can bathe in the warm light.

It is not quite 8 a.m. but traffic has already begun to congest the major roads the ten minutes passing quickly as the town car inches forward at an increasingly excruciating slow pace. Ignis sits tall, back straight as he studies the pedestrians as they flow into a plaza to linger around a metal statue of Shiva formed from curving rebar left barren to the elements of Mother Nature, lines form at inform of an Ebony franchise and people work their way through the steadily growing crowd. Soon they are rushing past as the shadows shorten and the light grows. Ignis turns away, eyes falling to the sapphire blue watch on his wrist, lips pressing into a frown.

“Talcott, is there a reason for the hold up?” He catches Talcott eyes in the rear-view mirror, an arduous task considering he is wearing his black drivers cap and pair of blacked out aviators but Ignis can feel the man’s eyes on him, the slight agitation as traffic slowly creeps forward.

Talcott looks away as the loud blare of a horn forces him to fore the car forward, “Morning congestion, sir.” Ignis sighs and leans forward into his seat pressing a green and pink dabbled gil into the driver’s shoulder. Talcott reaches up, twisting as the back door opens and the man in his pressed navy-blue suit and oak colored oxfords steps out, leather briefcase tightly gripped in his hand. “Mr. Scientia!” Talcott shifts into park and opens his own door, belt catching him in his haste to vacate the vehicle. Once free from the nylon he quickly rounds the car but Ignis is off in a steady jog disappearing into the crowd. “Mr. Scientia!” Its loud enough to slow Ignis, he gives the driver a smile and a thumbs up before he disappears into Insomnia’s subway system. Behind the parked town car, a taxi horn blare. Talcott glares at the man, “shuddap, alright!” The taxi driver waves his hand offering the driver a one finger salute.

 

Pushing the turn style forward, Ignis quickly makes his way to the Green D line sub thankful the car he has taken is not yet full to the point that it’s like sharing a sardine can; but it’s still congested enough that he is forced to share a hand grip with a young man in a puffy grey bubble vest, his face hidden from most of the world by a black and tan Kephart brand hat. It is not a habit Ignis plans to make, customary once-overs, but he can hear the young man’s music even in the congestion and over the whispering voices of other businessmen and women.

The young man minds his business, flipping through songs trying to find the perfect one finally deciding on the heavy beats of AVALANCHE, the lead singers voice a high scream at times. As the young man stops moving deciding on the fates to be his guide, he sets the music player to shuffle then shifts his grip turning away from the pressing crowd to face Ignis. He keeps his head low allowing it to bob to the beat that tunes out the others, the crying child in the rear, the group of giggling omegas’ whose laughter only increases as the sub is plunged into darkness for a moment before the lights inside the turn on. Much to their relief, the group is clustered around a few alphas who are more than willing to hold on tight in the dark.

Ignis’ chest rumbles, then it stops. The odd rumbling picks up again and Ignis shifts, back bowing as he attempts to remain a professional distance from the young man with no luck. As he brought his hand up to retrieve his mobile from his pocket, the rowdy group of omegas bumps into a woman, who ends up losing her hold on the long pole and hand grip of the triangle above her. It is a chain reaction and Ignis finds himself shoved into the young man. The mobile tumbling to the floor with a resounding thunk of rigid plastic against metal undoubtedly broken, Ignis faired better as a steady arm wrapped around his waist and held him close to the puffy rolls of the grey vested youth in front of him.

The grip on his hip slackens as the young man relinquishes his hold on the hand grip above them as the intercom announced their arrival to the Citadel Main station. “Here, Specs.” The young man turned his head to look at the bespeckled man that towers above him from his squat and smiles warmly, far too familiar for a stranger that Ignis had not really met. Ignis hesitates, eyes locking onto the man’s face studying each part as quickly as he can lest he become rude and outright begins to stare at the young man. One could get lost in the steel blue-grey of his eyes. A chuckle splits perfect lips and the guy slides the phone into the curve of Ignis’ awaiting hand. “Um…your welcome.”

Ignis nods curtly and moves around him trying his hardest to force himself to disappear, “Thank you.” Ignis pushes through the remaining passengers towards the door, briefcase clutched tightly to his chest as he is forced out by the flow of people. As he stands on the platform, passengers spilling around him, Ignis pressed the power button, groaning as his brow furled as he takes in the cracked screen and the inability to answer it. C. Amicitia flashes, disappearing into the breast pocket of the blazer as Ignis takes off quickly working his way through the crowd outside of the Citadel Plaza, the heart of the business district. 

 

 

Clarus is stern, albeit fatherly, then some of the older associates and when he visits Ignis’ office later in the day, the sun has long fallen; it is with his trench coat draped over one arm and his suitcase in the other. Despite the sliding glass door being open, Clarus still raps at the window beside it startling one of the youngest associate vice presidents in the company, black coffee that has long been cold and indigestible nearly spills onto the desk, only a few drops splatter onto some reports.

“Ignis,” Clarus steps in ever a hulking figure and leans beside the door. Ignis stills his tidying, turning to glance at the CFO of the company. “Go home. Even Old Reggie left hours ago.” Clarus smirks down at Ignis, his familiarity of beseeching of Regis'-company CEO and the most prominent chair members-nickname is enough for Ignis to realize he's right but it doesn't stop him from fighting back. Even when he looks past to the are behind Clarus where the office tunnels from a bright fluorescent white to pitch black. It is late.

“But,” Ignis gestures to the lamp lit keyboard and computer screen, “that marketing plan for Gralea” Clarus groans, it is not loud but the speed at which the older man looms over the cluttered desk is all business. Shifting his coat and briefcase the CFO leans over the desk pressing the screens power button, sending it off the data dreamland.

Ignis puffs out a gently soft breath holding back his exasperation at being fathered by one of the higher up. “Your young, Ignis, and it’s a Friday. Even I have a date tonight.”

“Mr. Amicitia” Clarus shakes his head shoving random reports into Ignis’ briefcase, “I can lock the office up.”

Clarus doesn’t stop only slows as his eyes catch a well-battered pamphlet, the edges worn till they are frayed and the seams soft, Ignis’ neat scribbled cover the white areas. Lifting it slowly, Clarus studies the smiling family on the front then turns it over reading over the thorough list of minuscule warnings. The silence between the two grows tense before Clarus finally, with a gloomy exhalation, holds the folded paper out to the young man. “Go home Ignis. Call Gladio, walk your dog, order some Galhadan if you are staying in. Just get out from behind that desk.”

“Yes, sir.” Ignis grabs the pamphlet, bending to the side to grab his briefcase only for Clarus to nudge it just out of reach with the tip of his dress shoe. “Mr. Amicitia?”

“When I said get out from behind the desk, it was sans work. No reports Ignis, no emails, in fact, as I walk you out, I’ll call Gladiolus to get you.” _Since you won't._ Shock clung to Ignis’ face, mouth open slightly. He could not be serious, could he? Ignis had reports to cover, locations to book and marketing plans to set in stone before they even broke ground in Gralea. Altissia had a new campaign starting next month and that meant models to scout, filmographies to get under contract and; Ignis’ head swims, hands working over the seams of his dress pants as Clarus forces him from his office, hand on the center of his back. As they walked through the deserted office the lights above flicker on only to turn off as they stepped from the elevator to the first floor. The lobby is empty except for the lone figure hunched over by the front glass windows. Gladiolus is a businessman just as his father, but instead of the high rises and glittering windows of sky scrappers he prefers the gritty walls of laid brick and mortar, the pounding bass of hard rock and grunts of those pumping iron.

Gladio does not pay attention as Clarus walks over, Ignis trailing behind quietly with a deep scowl when Clarus does turn away; upset that he has been kicked out of his office and forced to abandon his work. Gladio runs a hand through the wild mane of curls on his head, then down the side of his face and over an old childhood scar he got as a teenager, his mobile pressed firmly into his face. “Crowe, just, I don’t know set him up with the elliptical, something he won’t kill himself on. I know I know” Gladio catches the glint of black in the overhead lights and tilts his head up. “Hey, I’ll be there in a few. Yes. Okay, yeah. Meat and Meet, right? Okay. Love you too.” With a suffering sigh, he shoves the device into the pouch on his pull over and stands, Clarus throwing an arm over his son who stands just as tall as he does.

“Ugh, dad. Come on.” Gladio whines even as his arms wrap around the older man before pulling away after a few seconds, Clarus pressing a quick kiss to the crown. “Hey, you still good, for tonight?” Clarus narrows his eyes a bit then smiles. It is just as warm and honey-dipped as the one Gladio gives him in return.

“Yes. I think I can handle a date Gladio.” Gladio holds his hands up, one hand reaching out to slap his dads’ shoulder. “Would you mind keeping Ignis company.” Gladio shrugs turning to the shadow behind his father.

“Naw,” Gladio smiles at him, Ignis responding in kind to the warm grin. “If he doesn’t mind being at the gym.”

Ignis shakes his head, Clarus studying Ignis with a piercing gaze. Its intense and Ignis tries to remain passive, stoic but Gladio is smiling at him now and he learned long ago he can’t resist grinning when his oldest friend is grinning from ear to ear or his dad, who is as much a father to Ignis as his own Uncle, stares at him as if Ignis will unlock the secrets of the world. Ignis feels his lips turning up and a smile blossoms on his face, cheeks shading red in awkwardness, Clarus finally looks away.

“Then its settled. You boys have a nice night.” They step out into the warm fall breeze, the wind gently picking up as Clarus turns away his hand out as a valet passes him the keys to his car that sits behind Gladio’s SUV. As he crosses the front of the vehicle, he stops looking back at them. The two boys still but Clarus shakes his head opening his own door and sliding in. They wait till they see the rear lights of the Mercedes disappear to pull off.

“So, a date?”

Gladio nods, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Yeah, it’s strange. Some teacher from Iris’ school. Iris actually set them up.” Ignis nods, tapping his fingers on his leg, “So when are you going to start?”

“Hm?”

“Dating. It’s been,” Gladio stops at a red light, jaw clenching as he counts on his fingers, brows twitching as he mentally fights with himself. “Five years, two months and a week since” Gladio’s hand runs over the leather wheel cover as he turns down an alleyway. “Well, you’ll do it in your own time.” It is a whisper dying as his phone rings again and he fishes it out from his pouch. “’Ello, Crowe. What?” Gladio closes his eyes for a second, growling as he inhales. “Yeah, I’ll be there in five.”

The call is ended, and the mobile tossed into the cup holder. “Gym trouble?”

“Yeah, this one guy. Scrawny fucking guy tryin to ‘get them gains’ ya’ know. He’s in there every night for the last month, paid for personal lessons so I set him up with Crowe and he’s just this stumbling fucking…moron.” Gladio smacks the wheel, anger rippling off him as they pull up outside Apocalypse gym. The gears grind as Gladio shifts into park and the vehicle lurches forward as it suddenly stops. The vehicle hums, stalling, while Gladio jumps out leaving Ignis to turn it off and retrieve the keys. The patrons, Ignis notices right away, are all lithe and willowy a mix of men and women there as Gladio put it on the drive over to get them gains. They barely pay Gladio any attention only sparing him a few seconds of questionable glancing when he first steps in before turning back to their workouts. Ignis does not even garner a single glance, which is simply fine, as he walks to the front desk where Crowe folds freshly laundered towels.

“Hey there Igs.” She smiles and pats a towel as she places it on the stack. “Gonna work out or no?”

Ignis glances at his clothes then back to Crowe who snorts, “Gladdy isn’t going to bite your head off if you take a hoodie and some sweats. With that fancy desk job, you have a few rounds with the bag ain’t gonna hurt you.” She leans over poking his upper arms. “Yeah, ain’t gonna hurt one bit.”

She disappears, squatting behind the counter. Behind her, the office door is shut tightly but Gladio’s voice can still be heard inside. The patrons stop once more looking toward the door, smug smiles pulling at their delicate features as the voice of the owner can be heard. The gym is quiet as everyone listens in, at least they will have something to gossip over they morning breakfast dates. Even Crowe has stopped looking for clothing in Ignis’ size and turned her attention to the door. Whoever is in there with Gladio has obviously pushed him too far, done to many stupid things and Gladio is fed up. The door is pulled over and the patrons stumble to find something to go, Crowe is jumping gripping a pen and drawing Ignis a map to nowhere. Ignis is the only one openly watching, eyeing the shorter blond that is being carried out of the gym with the grace of a bag of trash. As Gladio and the blond pass, he catches the distinct waft of Alpha, a highly aroused alpha and he zeros in on the blond who stutters out excuse after excuse. The other patrons turn as they pass, a few licking their lips as they size up the blond. As the guy is shoved out, Gladio glares down at him and quickly grabs his collar pulling him close.

“Prompto, I swear if I see you here again, I’m going to personally kick your ass.” The blond offers a love drunk smile that is hard to decipher from the distant Ignis is at, but he is sure the man is melting from being so close.

“My personal training?” Gladio clenches his teeth as he fists his free hand at his side. Everyone is watching, groaning when the door is pulled close and the pair steps away from the establishment. Gladio is quiet, as they talk and even trying to read lips is hard to do. Prompto is not smooth in his victory, his eyes grow wide and he smiles throwing up finger guns as he is gifted a business card. Gladio returns with the look of a man who lost horribly to a baby behemoth.

Around them, the gym is silent save for the soft sporadic grunts of people working out. Crowe does not hide the smile she gives Gladio and bumps her hip into his. “So, I’m going to take Ignis to do a round with the bag.” Gladio nods slumping into the stool behind the counter. Ignis lifts a brow holding out Gladio’s phone, it is already vibrating and chiming as he gets it. A message pops up and Gladio groans low, turning the phone over not wanting to deal with that issue again.

 

 

“What about him?” Crowe gestures to the far back of the Meat and Meet bar, waving a rib at a tall svelte redhead still dressed in his business attire sans tie. But who were they to judge, Gladio in his gym shorts and hoodie, Ignis in the pilfered sweats and Crowe in her bike shorts and a black tank top with the gym’s logo embossed on the back and above her left breast? A mod podge group of gym bunnies sitting around a table with a blooming onion centerpiece and a discarded pile of braised Garula ribs with two empty pitchers of the best apple lager they could jointly buy.

“Naw, business guys aren’t really my type.” Gladio pulls a sliver of the onion off and dips it into mustard, “Ignis?” The man looks up, shaking his head as he leans on his upturned hand, eyes drooping a bit.

“Ignis looks due for a pick me up.” Crowe whispers and Ignis shakes his head again glancing at his wristwatch. It glares 9:30 pm and he lets out a deep yawn.

“I’ll see you two later. “Ignis slides off the stool tossing a few doors down for a tip.

“Really Ignis?” Gladio sighs, pulling another bloom off. He nudges Crowe and the two stands quickly following Ignis from the bar.

Crowe exhales as they step out into the fresh air “hey, there is a band playing at Dave’s.” Crowe runs her arm through Ignis’ standing near the buildings as Gladio takes the outer side. “We should check it out before we head home.”

Ignis lifts a brow, shaking his head as Gladio nudges him. “It could be fun,” Gladio makes a horrible sing-song voice but it still brings a smile to Ignis’ lips. With a huff he agrees, Crowe pulling him down the sidewalk. It is not a far walk, at least it feels that way as they walk through a small park, the buzz they got at Meat and Meet tingling in their limbs. As they draw closer to the neon sign of Dave’s Bar and Grill Crowe stumbles erupting in a fit of giggles as Gladio recants his many tales of Prompto Argentum.

“Those finger guns!”

“Oh, but he’s so sweet.” Crowe snorts, her smile settling as Gladio holds the door open for her. The scent of alpha and omega’s is strong inside the bar, unlike Meat and Meet that is open and well ventilated, Dave’s is a literally mosh pit brimming with young people that make Ignis feel old for his twenty-seven years, if it wasn’t the hoards of young adults, the couples kissing against the walls is enough to unsettle him.

“Come on geezer,” Crowe chides forcing him deeper into the pit, ahead of him Gladio moves like water. Fluid and uninhibited by the overpowering scents. Crowe shoves past, eager to stare up at the silver-haired woman strumming the bass with agile fingers. For a moment Ignis is reminded of Prompto and waits for Crowe to give the woman finger guns, but it never comes. Gladio is lost more to the music that a band member leaving Ignis alone, a few people glancing at him others boldly raking their eyes over his form.

It is pointless to try yelling for his friends, so Ignis simply taps one of the shoulders. When Gladio glances at him, Ignis jerks a thumb towards the bar which earns a nod from Gladio. Free to depart, Ignis pushes through the crowd, glaring down a few people as he goes a warning to stay away.

“What are you- Hey! Specs.” Ignis swivels around in his stool, looking at the young man from the early morning train ride. He smiled, placing the pint he had been drying down on the counter behind the bar. “What brings you here?” He glances around looking for anyone nearby or headed that way that could be with the bespeckled man before him. The man turns his gaze back to Ignis once he is satisfied that there is no other person that will come crashing in, he leans forward, both hands panting on the bar top. “Hitting the gym?”

Ignis frowns then glances down at his attire, “My friend owns it.”

“Ah,” the brunet shakes his head, “so what can I get you?”

“Water is fine.” The man pulls a face, one brow quirking upwards.

“I think you need something stronger than that. How about a tea?”

The man turns about before Ignis can protest leaving him to stare at the guys back as he mixes the drink. Like most of the staff in the bar, his shirt is black, nondescript save for the line of skulls that fade from shiny to nonexistent from the shoulders down, the cargo crop jeans are an odd choice but seem to work for the kid.

“Here handsome.” The glass a mix of vodka, gin, rum, and tequila slides cross the bar, a happy lemon perched on the side chilling under a colorful umbrella. Ignis offers a warily constricted smile leaning down to capture the straw between his lips. The man watches his gaze only shifting when an omega walks up and ask for a pitcher of beer. The man nods, excusing himself even though he is only taking two steps to the side to fill a pitcher with some craft beer. As the omega disappears the man shakes his head and leans over the bar watching Ignis with rapt attention.

“That shit is so gross. Pumpkin Mulled Cinnamon beer.” The bartender shrugs and leans down, watching as Ignis finishes off the tea. “Would you like another or something else?”

“Are you going to open a tab?”

The tender shrugs, pushing off and running his fingers over a paper coaster. “Naw, think of it as my treat so some other dick doesn’t buy you a crappy cheap drink.”

He passes two bottles down the line, the patrons huddled at the end picking them up, barely able to stand themselves. Somehow, they manage to work their way from the bar into the crowd of people at the center of the bar as the band starts another cover. The empty iced tea glass is moved away from Ignis, another taking its place.

“So, what do you do?”

Ignis tilts his head, lips wrapped around the drinking straw. It is tasty and sweet, perfect for someone who needs to loosen up. The tender is further down the bar, but its quieter at the bar than at the center where the speakers are, so there is not a need to yell as he wipes down the bar.

“A lot of things.”

The tender looks up, working his way down the top to Ignis. “Well, what do you like to do?”

Ignis shrugs then shake his head. “Reading, and you have really nice eyes.”

The bartender chuckles, reaching for the remaining iced tea. “Yeah, I think you’re done” Ignis shakes his head pulling his drink back, pulling away as well.

“Who are you” the question goes unfinished as Ignis removes the straw and downs the last fourth in one go. The glass is handed back and Ignis stares at the younger man, lip darting out to run crossed his lips. Grimacing, Ignis stands swaying before finding the bar to brace himself against.

The bartender mirrors the sickening grimace Ignis’s face has morphed into, “Do you need the restroom?” A nod of Ignis’ head in the negative and the bartender doesn’t believe him as Ignis sways again, greening slightly. Ignis chortles as he leans closure, the iced tea leaving warm liquid courage surging through his limbs, heat pooling low in his stomach.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

The bartender pulls out his phone, its midnight, then he glances to the door searching for his relief. “I get off in ten minutes, wanna get something to eat?”

Humming, Ignis returns to his seat watching the bartender wipe down the counter. The younger guy talks, Ignis is so far gone welcoming the warm feeling as inebriation takes over his being, that he does not pay attention to a word that is said. He barely remembers a blond about the same height as the brunet taking his place at the bar and sending the leaving bartender a look.

“Taking home a drunk?” The blond spits out, not to Ignis but to his departing coworker who is dragging some obnoxiously puffy jacket over his shoulders.

The other bartender sighs, “Loqi, you really don’t have room to talk.” The blond, Loqi, opens his mouth, then closes it with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever man, just” Loqi’s had waves in the air, shooing them off. The bar is clearing out, the band packing up as Dave’s goes from hard rock to pulse-pounding EDM. Near the stage, Ignis can see Crowe talking to the bassist, the woman stretching her arm out so Crowe can write something on it. No doubt in Ignis’ tipsy mind that she is using eyeliner which is terribly hard to get off, something Ignis would hate to have done to him. Gladio glances his way and Ignis smiles, and he is not sure if it is too much from the frown Gladio returns. Nudging Crowe, Gladio nods his head toward the bar. Crowe turns, her expression falling into the same killing glare Gladio has. She excuses herself marching for Ignis who is more than happy plastered to the bartender who is still talking to Loqi, face buried in the crook of the bartenders’ neck.

Stupid Loqi, Ignis looks the blond over. He is cute if you like a bitchy face and a smart-ass attitude, but he is staring past them now, even the bartender with the knack for a vicious Iced tea is not paying attention to him. He is watching Crowe and Gladio as they walk up.

“Thank you for finding our friend.” Crowe offers a gentle smile that does not reach her eyes if sight was a weapon the bartender would be mincemeat. Gladio pulls Ignis back, much to Ignis’ displeasure.

Loqi snorts, earning a glare from his coworker. “He’s good company. When he’s not smashed.”

“Yeah, that he is.” Crowe pats Ignis, “thank you again. The band was amazing, you guys have a good night.”

Gladio nods his goodbye, forcing Ignis to about-face and steadies him with both hands forcing him towards the door. “Wait,” the bartender sighs ignoring the sleazy smile that graces Loqi’s face. The younger man steps over taking Ignis’ hand. Pulling back his sleeve, the man fumbles for a minute till Crowe offers him her eyeliner. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The man holds Ignis’ arm against him as he writes his number down along with his name. Gladio looks down at him, nose wrinkling as he mouths the name. “You guys have a good night.”

The young man swings his arms, stepping back with an awkward bow, fingers pressing along the length of Crowe’s eyeliner. Gladio shakes his head, muttering about dumb kids and forces Ignis out the door. For a moment Crowe looks at the bartender. His head is tilted downward, and he is looking at her eyeliner as if it was something Ignis used daily. Clearing her throat, Crowe glanced at her liner then back up.

“Can I get that back?”

“Oh!” The man nods waving it slightly in the air. “Yeah, sorry.”

“No problem, hotshot.”

Behind the bar, Loqi shakes his head in disbelief. “Man, Noct.” Noct grunts, tilting his head slightly to the side to look at Loqi. Loqi has both brows lifted, lips pursed, and he is itching to ask Noctis what that was. What type of person gets the normally stoic and aloof man that flustered? Loqi shifts, fingers tapping on the countertop. “Astrals be damned, you know that guy or something? You never get like this. Never.”

Noctis rolls his eyes, “whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, later.”

Noctis steps from the bar, boots scuffing the sidewalk, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. One hand on his phone, Noctis fiddles with it hoping to feel the phone vibrate. On the long bus ride home the phone is dark, other than him constantly pushing the power button checking to see if a message has arrived or the time. As he unlocks his front door, Noctis is greeted by nothing other than silence. Dropping his keys into a bowl and working his boots off, Noctis pads into the desolate apartment to lay down on the couch. One last look at the time, Noctis turns over on his side, forgoing a blanket, his eyes sliding closed as sleep claims him. As he begins to drift, he wonders about the blond from the bar. Soon he gives up welcoming sleeps sweet embrace.


	2. Skinny Love

 Gladiolus has been a bundle of radiant smiles; Ignis does not look directly at him, his changing demeanor is more than acceptable, and that shining grin may blind him. It is a bit out of the normal, but not so much to raise any questions especially after his early morning run. But Ignis isn’t looking at him, isn’t really seeing him as he stares out the window at the procession of police cars that line and fan out around the bank crossed the street, he can only catch Gladio’s perfect smile when he too leans forward to look out the window egg, sausage and spinach breakfast sandwich gripped in his hands.

The ice shatters as the Gym bunny, a term so at odds with Gladio’s hulking demeanor, that Ignis does smile then and turn to him peeling his eyes from the chaotic action, raptly looking at Gladio who still gazes out the window. “I’m seeing someone.” Ignis lifts a perfectly manicured brow, bringing a hand to adjust the glasses that have not moved.

“Really?”

Gladio nods, bringing the think sandwich to his mouth and bites down, yoke spilling over the holes and valley of an English muffin. “Yeah” His gaze is broken as a new car pulls up outside the small café with an entertaining view. Out of all the patrons in the building they are the only to calmly watching, everyone else either hovering behind their table whispering as they watch or talking rapidly over the phone, some shutters snapping. The News had already broken and now the crew was arriving disappointedly late.

“I didn’t think it would ever happen.” Ignis brows join. Gladio, nor he himself, is not the perfect vision of what omega is. Gladio has a body that puts most alphas to shame all taunt muscles and nay a layer or touch of fat on him, he’s outgoing, self-assured and even Ignis can admit that he’s handsome in the rugged outdoorsy way that makes homemakers swoon over the Brawny Man. Ignis smiles, Gladiolus Amicitia would make a fantastic Brawny Guy, or Old Spice Man. Even with the second gender of Omega.

Ignis smiles, arms folding in front of him as he looks over his best friend, only friend. The one person that had stayed with him through the hardest time of his life. Besides Crowe. “Are they nice, treating you right?” Gladio side glances at him, eyes widening at the sudden aggressive edge.

“He is treating me fine. Its um” Gladio rubs the flat of his palm over the table as his tongue runs between his lips and teeth, “I do not know why I held off. He’s different, that’s for sure.”

The last bit of breakfast is left on the brown paper wrapper before Gladio. Silence falls between them, the other patrons disappearing in the small bubble that forms just between them. The small moments between them is amazing, the friendship they have had since childhood when that bubble was a blanket they would hide under or a fort they would build in the Scientia’s back yard. “I just, Ignis” no one else matters as Ignis covers Gladio’s worried hand with his own. “I want us both to be happy.”

“Whoever said I was not happy?” Soft thumbs rub against the pad of Gladio’s hand. If Gladio is happy with this person, whoever they are, Ignis decides he will be euphoric even if he losses time with his friend. Gladio nods picking his food back up as a person leans into their space, they have cultivated to take a picture of the scene playing out before the small coffee shop. In front of the window, the cameraman with his Chocobo colored hair is dragging the camera from one end of the police line to the other as the reporter sets up his mic.

Gladio jerks his head to the door and Ignis nods gathering the zip up, sliding his arms in. It is a task to make it through the crowd, but they eventually get to the door, to freedom from the curious patrons, and steps out. The sidewalk is clear except for the cameraman who is leaning against the car waiting for his partner to return with some people to question. Above the door, the bell rings and despite the radio chatter from the police cars, it captures the young blondes’ attention. For a moment he stares at them, then pushes off the car.

“Gladio?” The soles of his shoe pater as he quickly steps towards them, Ignis turning first then Gladio. “What are you doing here?” Ignis lifted a brow looking down at the scrawny man, the slight frown. He was mad? The blonde’s eyes flicked to Ignis then narrowed slightly, oh hell no.

“Breakfast,” Gladio stated, clipped.

Ignis turned to Gladio, looking between them like this as emotions shifted and flitted crossed both faces. Blondie was mad about Gladio being on a sidewalk; Gladio who owed him no explanation was offering reasons without him normal bullheadedness and he even looked slightly upsets.

“Oh fuck me, this guy?” Ignis’ arm flew out nearly smacking the mans face, but he stepped back with a domineering growl. “Really Gladio? He’s so” Gladio stiffened, amber eyes hardening as his jaw clenched. Ignis glanced at the alpha, then his hair. Ignis felt a sudden weight on his shoulders, falling to the pit of his stomach as he recalled the glazed over smitten look this man has leveled on his friend just a few short weeks before. The night whatever this was began its effortless growth “blonde, and his hair looks like a chocobo’s butt.”

“It does not” the blond growled out, hands fisting beside him, shoulders hunching up. He was not trying to be big, impressive, domineering alpha. It did not work for his size, not that that said much. “Yours looks like a Cockatrice.” Deep booming laughter rocked both alpha and omega, attention turning to Gladio.

“It really does.” The man chortled, hand resting on his stomach as he inhaled deeply.

Sighing, Ignis pushed against the arch of his brow, “touché.”

Gladio hummed as that pleased smile from breakfast tugged at his lips, “Ignis, this is Prompto Argentum, the guy I’ve been seeing.” Ignis offered his hand wincing as Prompto slapped his into Ignis’ grip. “Prompto, this is Ignis Scientia, my best friend.”

Hair comments behind them, Prompto tightened his hold. “Nice to put a face to the ‘best cook in Eos’. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ignis slowly turned to Gladio, brows lifting and eyes growing wide. “Well, I have heard a thing about you, Mr. Argentum.” Dropping Prompto’s hand, Ignis shoved his into his jacket pockets.

“Really?” Prompto confusion grew as the young man tried to blink obviously wondering why Ignis did not even know about him.

Gladio glared, nudging Ignis with his elbow before turning back to Prompto. He would deal with Ignis later. “Are we still good for tonight?”

Tonged clicking, Prompto rocked on his heels, “about that…. Dino’s date bowed out, some family issue and then Noct was wanting a guys night since that happened.” Stepping back, Ignis turned away back to the police cars leaving the couple to navigate their own waters. Crossed the street he instantly recognizes Dino Ghiranze, Meteor Publishing’s lead reporter, chatting with an officer his hands gesturing towards the bank and police vehicles and all around returning every so often to take notes. If it was not for his persistent nagging and digging Ignis would have liked the guy, but the number of times he had to deal with him in and outside of work he disliked Dino and the man's excessive need for direct answers. That was why he was such a great reporter.

“Excuse me, sir?” A gentle tap on his shoulder barely felt under the fabric of his jacket had Ignis glancing behind him, but the offender stood off to the side, pen in hand. As Ignis looked at him, the young man smiles and only lifts the pad of paper up. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

Ignis looks the man over, head tilting slightly. “I, I guess. For what?”

“Well, what happened at the bank.”

Ignis spares a glance towards the structure, he can now see a few people lined up on the top steps. “I’m not inertly sure. I was having a breakfast date with a friend.”

The man nodded, pen scratching crossed the pad of paper with a hum, “Did anything seem off? The eggs maybe?”

Ignis’s head cocked to the side, “what does that have to do with a bank robbery?”

“Oh, it’s a bank robbery?”

“I would assume, why else would there be so many police?”

“Yes, I guess your right.” The man scribbled on the pad some more. As he lifted his pen, he glanced up at Ignis, “and what about tomorrow night?”

“What?”

“Are you free Saturday night?” The man smiled pulling the paper he had been writing on and offering it to Ignis. Hesitating, Ignis looked at the slip seeing the man’s number and name on it. Noct. Careful, as if the paper was fragile China, Ignis took the slip looking over the soft loops and clean slants of cursive. Tearing his eyes from the paper, Ignis looked at the young man.

“Have we met before?”

“Yeah, I bought you an Atlassian Iced Tea, at Dave’s.” Ignis shakes his head, he does not remember much, and it has been so long since he had gone to Dave’s Hot Spot bar that he should not be feeling even remotely guilty, yet he does, and it only expounds as the man’s smile falls. “Oh, well, then my name is Noctis.” The smile is back, not as vibrant, or warm as before and it hurts for some reason.

“Ignis.” Ignis has had many handshakes throughout the years and it tells him a lot about people. Gladio’s hands are covered in callouses from bodybuilding, Prompto’s are soft, but they have seen work. Noctis is firm and gentle, something he has had a long time to practice and perfect.

“So, tomorrow night?” Noctis pulls away, “The FuRai Restaurant, near the Somnus Bridge, or the Angel Snacks. Both are fine with me.” Ignis frowns not liking that his plans where just decided for him, even if Noctis seemed nice.

“Igs,” Gladio’s voice draws him away, Ignis’s face softening as his friend walks over leaving Prompto near the car. “Come on, Crowe is going to kill me and its only eight am.”

Gladio will never know how much Ignis is thankful for him at that moment. “Yes, I do have that appointment.” Gladio nods his head to Noctis, chin moving upward in a silent hello. Noctis returns the gesture, watching as Ignis rapidly disappears in the forming crowd.

“Hmm, so Gladio is coming over tonight.” Prompto leans on his friend leaning back to look at Dino who is still chatting up the office. “Think he’ll bring Ignis?”

Noctis shakes his head, “I doubt it.”

 

 

Dr. Kadowaki’s office is a plethora of sexual health and awareness that even as the minutes stretch ever longer, he does not take his eyes off the large phallic shaped bookends on the shelf behind her. Whenever he does, and he has tried so often as he waits for her to arrive, they land on the large statue near the window of three lovers, a man kneeling in front of another who has a woman’s legs wrapped around his face, her own lost in the firm molding of orgasm. It is so realistic that Ignis feels as if he is staring at the action itself.

Its only after the first ten minutes Ignis decides to read one of those books that sit between the marble penis.

_When marriage became a subjugated affair, temples offered sanctuary to omega courtesans. If the courtesan could not bear their circumstances there were few options available to them and ones that were available came in the form of prayers to the deity Etro, Goddess of death, fertility, and childbirth, enshrined near pleasure quarters, or, and less successfully, escape under the pretense of being beta. A fleeing courtesan, however, did not cover a prodigious distance, as pacts stipulated that those who sold an omega to the brothel were responsible for paying lost fees during their absence, locating them, and returning the omega to the pleasure house._

“I am sorry for the wait Ignis, the last couple had decided to celebrate.” Ignis snaps the book shut, sitting straighter as Dr. Kadowaki enters. She is a tall woman who has a fond embrace for the lines of grey that mingle with the black of her cropped hair and cat-eye glasses. “Anyways dear, how are you feeling?”

“No different.” She nods opening the manila file that sits before her. “No heats and my most recent fertilization occurred three months ago.”

“You did just come off suppressors, it could take a while to regulate heats. What number is this for you?”

“It’s been a year and a half since I stopped taking those, it’s my second.”

Kadowaki stops lifting the papers of his chart. For a moment she hesitates then takes her glasses off. “And you get the hormone shots, not the pills.” Ignis nods placing _Pleasure, Fertility, and Omegas in the Waring States of Lucis (300-600)_ on the desk and settles back as Kadowaki slips her glasses back on. She starts to rifle through his chart again, “let's keep you on the shot, it's more potent than the pills. It will help with implantation.” She smiles at him placing her glasses back on. “Why don’t we go see how its going, maybe we will hear a heartbeat.”

Dr. Kadowaki stands, holding her arm out to wrap around his shoulders as she leads him from the office to the sonogram room. As Ignis lays on the table, the technician lifting the soft cotton t-shirt up and pulling down on the hem of his pants, Ignis inhales. He holds his breath as the cold gel is worked over his lower abdomen and the wand brought over. Kadowaki pats his arm, just as invested in this as he is, has been since he came seeking her help. For a moment, the screen is static black and grey, a small amount of light filtering through but as the tech moves the wand around smearing Ignis’ stomach in goop that is a small flicker. The room is silent as they stare at the black void on the screen, the normal red and blue signifying flow absent, some small shape like a bean or even raspberry nonexistent.

Kadowaki tightens her grip on his arm as the first wave of anguish washes over him, he is not strong enough to hold the tears back and he is curling onto his side, body heaving with the heavy wails of a desperate man that has lost everything other than his memories. “Dr. Kadowaki?”

“I’ll take Mr. Izunia to my office. Could you call a driver?” The technician nods, hastily exiting the room. The sonogram room stays empty for the next hour, besides the doctor and her patient. As the cries and tears disappear and all that is left is a sniffling form, Dr. Kadowaki helps him sit up and leads him from the room to her office. “Jessica, can you get us some coffee.” Jessica, one of the many faceless receptionists, dips her head giving Ignis a desperately solemn look. It is not long before Jessica arrives with the coffee, the door clicking shut behind her while the good doctor skims over Ignis’ chart.

“Ignis,” she is not looking at him and he is thankful. He does not want the same pained expression Jessica gives him on the doctors’ face. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening. Last time it was ten weeks, this time eight. Is there something, any possibility that your husband could have had some medical issues?”

Ignis mutely shakes his head. He is slowly becoming numb to even the idea that the issue lays with the future father of his children even if it has been years since he passed. “No, nothing.”

Kadowaki breathes in closing the folder. “Dear, let's try again in eight months. Give your body some time to adjust and hopefully, we can have success this time around.” Ignis nods, placing the full mug on the desk and stands, “make sure you are eating correctly, exercise. Do not stress about this, we have more time and your young. Have some fun, Astrals knows you need it. Take care of yourself Ignis and pray.”

 

Lunch turned into a bland, numb affair sitting on the main path of Luca park, a paper basket sits beside Ignis, the hotdogs cold and untouched in their papers as he investigates the distant. Nothing is there for him to stare at as his mind slips from this world to his own little dream. The sounds of children’s screaming in the background make it even worse as he wonders what tiny feet would sound like on the wooden floors of his apartment. He knows what it would sound like, Umbra enjoys padding around, but his nails click over the floor and toddlers do not have nails like Umbra.

As Ignis sits he does not notice the couples that walk by, and he is only scarcity aware of babies being pushed in strollers. He only notices what he wants but cannot have. By the time he is pulled from his thoughts the lamps that line the walkway have turned on and his phone is buzzing in his pocket. Pulling the device out he is greeted with Gladio and Iris’ faces.

“Hello?” The phone is barely near his ear, the words whispered, and he can hear the exhalation Gladio takes.

“Hey, how’d it go with the doc?”

Ignis shrugs as he brings a hand up and runs it through the hairs that have become loose over the hours. “About as well as to be expected.”

“That’s great to hear! Hey, I’m going over to Prompto’s place for dinner, said the guys wouldn’t mind, wanna join?”

No, Ignis works his bottom lip between his teeth, he really does not but he can hear the nervousness in Gladio’s voice something he has never heard before. It takes Ignis off guard and that is enough to pull Ignis out of his pit of disappear. At least to get his head above water. “Sure, what time?”

“Now, I can pick you up.”

“How about I meet you there? I’m not at home right now.”

He can almost see the way Gladio’s brows come together through the silence over the line. As Ignis waits for Gladio to respond, which is not long but enough time to envision the other man trying to figure out why Ignis is not at home. “Yeah, I’ll text you the address alright?”

“Thank you Gladio.” It is a much-needed distraction, Ignis comes to believe as he pockets his phone and stands for the first time in forever. Stretching he picks up the empty hot dog basket that he did not eat from and makes his way down the pathway, tossing the paper into a garbage can.

 

From the text Gladio sends, Prompto’s apartment is close to the park so there is not a need to ride the subway or hail a cab. With the second text comes a plea from Gladio to pick up something to eat, followed by a picture of something black, it could be a piece of charcoal or is that a burnt hamburger? Ignis cannot tell but Gladio’s successive pleas for real food and pictures of failed attempts at cooking, Dino is laughing in one of the pictures as Noctis holds a fire extinguisher over the stove and Prompto can barely be seen hunkered down in a corner, spatula sticking up.

>Gladio< 6:30: Man, you better hurry. I do not wanna die because these guys cannot cook.

>Ignis< 6:30: Have you tried?

>Gladio< 6:31: I can only boil water and make a mean cup of noods.

>Ignis< 6:45: I am on my way.

>Gladio< 6:45: By Shiva’s frozen nips! My hero!

Ignis has no trouble finding Prompto’s apartment. Dino stands near the parking lot, red-tipped cigarette hanging from his lips, mobile pressed to his ear as he talks. Crossed from him, closer to the building, Noctis sits along a hedge planter every so often fanning away the smell of cigarettes when Dino comes to close in his pacing walk. Noctis notices first that someone is approaching, and he stands carefully, tense, and maneuvers his hand behind him hiding a beer bottle in the planter. As Ignis gets close enough to identify he relaxes, pulling his bottle from the planter and walks over giving Dino a glare as the smoke wafts towards him.

“Specs, need some help?” Noctis does not wait for an answer holding the bottle out to Ignis while he takes the paper bags. “So what ya gonna cook? Hope its better than Prom’s attempt at hamburgers.”

“Yes, I believe it will be.” Ignis follows Noctis, nodding hello to Dino as his voice hushes. Whoever he is talking to, Ignis chances a glance at the reporter, had the man riled up the way his arms began to gesticulate that Ignis is a priority as they step into the center building and begin to ascend the stairs Ignis at the lead not sure where he is going. “Is the kitchen clean?” He does not see Noctis’s head nod behind him, or the way the man's eyes linger as the seat of his pants, lips slightly apart as he inhales deeply. Noctis

“Yeah, Gladio is helping Prompto clean.” They fall into a pleasant silence, Ignis deciding with he will make with the food he bought, Noctis taking the lead once they get up the three flights of stairs. Entering Prompto’s apartment reminds Ignis of the one time he visited Lestallum years ago. There had been a fire and while most of the buildings where intact, the overwhelming smell of fire retardant and smoke permeated the air. Its much the same in the kitchen more so than the rest of the apartment, the Teflon pan sitting in the sink with the meager remnants of shriveled hamburger meat covered in a thin white layer of retardant. The stove is clean, Gladio leaning on the refrigerator searching for another beer, he does not move as they enter and Noctis puts the bags down.

“Igs,” Gladio smiles at him, “I don’t know where anything is but please, help yourself.” He is offered a beer as thanks and Gladio leaves with two more in hand.

Noctis had already started pulling food from the paper bags, eyeing the prices on each label. Dino does not return from his phone call not that anyone expected him to anyway. Ignis spends most of the first hour in the kitchen cooking a Mother and Child rice bowl, Gladio begging each time he comes for another beer to join them. When he does finally join them Noctis is in awe at the food and Prompto sings his praises.

 

“This is me,” Ignis stops in front of a sparkling high rise, the bottom walls transparent showing the gold colored mailboxes to the world. For a few moments they linger outside, Noctis warm and cozy with alcohol and he can’t help but think of how beautiful Ignis’ eyes are in the dim light of a street lamp and just how warm his hand feels in his to the carnation stains painting the taller man’s cheeks. Noctis know it is not from the beer but the shots he was forced to do with each losing hand of poker. By the time Ignis came to understand it, his poker face was gone, and he would begin to giggle each time he had anything good or Gladio openly groping Prompto. “Would you like to come up?”

Noctis would love to, but instead of stating yes and forcing Ignis in; Noctis looks at those rich-hued mailboxes and the distant pool and the way the underwater lights shimmer onto the lobby ceiling with marbled blue. “Um.”

“If not, I won’t hold it against you.”

 Noctis turns his attention back, tightening his grip on Ignis’ hand. “We’re both drunk.”

“One coffee isn’t going to kill you.” Ignis smiles tugging at his hand, not hard enough to drag and its enough for Noctis to acquiesce. The doorman smiles at Ignis bidding him goodnight before offering Noctis just a grunt that he sees the other man.

The elevator is already waiting for them, the lift is something Noctis finds to be even more attractive than the shiny gold mailboxes. With walls lined in rich dark wood, gold bands forming swirling accents at the seams. With a giggle he wonders where the elevator man is, earning an odd look from Ignis.

“It’s nothing.” The elevator falls silent again, Noctis reveling in the slight scent of cinnamon and vanilla.

“It may be a bit of a mess.” Ignis offers as he opens the door, which Noctis doubts as the man removes his shoes with a shoe horn then places them into a cubby then to remove his jacket and hang it above the shoe cubby, offering to take Noctis’ as well. Ignis, even just slightly tipsy, is systematic leaving Noctis to doubt the apartment is in any form of disarray.

As they enter Ignis goes to the left stepping into a large alcove kitchen the bleeds into the dining area and an open spaced living room. Unlike the Victorian décor of the building itself, the apartment is complete opposite with an emphasis on natural light, modern lines, and minimalism. For the drunken mind, it is a complete shock, as if Noctis just moved from one era to the next by a door.

“Got a bathroom?”

“No.” Noctis turns looking at Ignis from his seat on a mustard yellow couch, the only thing that was out of place in this entire fifty hues of grey color scheme, shocked. A groan passed his lips as he watched Ignis’ shoulders begin to shake with laughter. “It’s down the hall, on the left. The door should be open, just be careful.”

“Thanks.” Like Ignis said, the bathroom door is open. With the flick of the switch his eyes adjust to the bright white room, even the shower curtain is an obscenely bright white. Staring at himself in the mirror, Noctis preened, straightening his bangs, checking to make sure his teeth where clean, straightening his t-shirt and the military style jacket. With one last look he smiled, if Ignis did not like him in this state then Ignis may not like him at all.

“You can do this Noct, it’s just ‘coffee’.” He lifts his hand giving a thumbs up and a wink receiving one back in return. Ignis greets him at the mouth of the hallway, a cup of coffee in hand. Noctis stares at the mug of black water, then to Ignis. This was not what he had in mind, far from it in fact.

“I didn’t know if you wanted cream and sugar.” Noctis draws his lips into a thin crooked line, the only cream he wants is Ignis legs wrapped around him with a large helping of the sweet moans he knows this man will make.

“This is fine.” Noctis lifts his mug in a gesture of thanks, bringing the drink to his lips. Its hot and bitter, absolutely appalling and he is left wondering how people can drink this crap. He should have accepted the cream and sugar, just maybe he should not have lied and just told Ignis he hates coffee.

But he has already downed half the mug and now he wants to vomit. His stomach turns and Ignis is talking about something, he looks a bit sad or guilty. Noctis cannot really tell as he sets his mug down and cannot keep his mind off anything but this horrible taste.

_Your good stomach just keep it down._

“Are you alright?” Ignis tilts forward taking the mug from Noctis. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think decaf would be an issue. With it being so late.” Noctis does not allow him to back away, hand coming to rest on the other man’s cheek that slides to his neck pulling them closure.

“Can I kiss you?” Ignis stills, eyes wide behind his glasses. The seconds that span between them seem to go on forever, ending with a nod and a pink tongue darting out nervously to damped soft lips. Ignis taste like coffee, of course, with hints of Jack and the spicy undertones of cinnamon from the Fireball shots. Height is not an issue, at least not like it is with Prompto and Gladio, but Prompto is into that, Gladio can pick him up. Noctis doubts Ignis can do that and does not fancy himself being carried bridal style anyway.

Instead, Ignis takes a seat in Noctis’ lap, cinnamon and vanilla mingling with each breath they share between kisses. Its hard to pull away, Noctis’ hands roaming over the other’s body, hands filling the hem of Ignis’ shirt. Its intoxicating and Noctis never wants to quit. When they do stop, Ignis has pulled away, foreheads resting against each other’s, breaths heavy.

“Can we move somewhere more comfortable?” Noctis shifts, pressing his hips upward. He does not want it to happen like this, but he cannot stop the urge to consume the man that straddles his hips. Silently Noctis wonders if Ignis knows just how intoxicating he is. How Noctis has not stopped thinking of him since they met at the bar, or how excited he was to hear Ignis was joining them earlier that night.

Neither makes it past falling into the bed. Soft kisses become urgent, socks half worked off, Noctis losses his shirt to the floor but Ignis is left dressed, pants undone, shirt hitched up by one of Noctis hands. The alcohol hits them hard luring them deep into the warm sheets, a mix of tired and uncoordinated limbs. Neither mind, more content to share the bed than perform acrobatics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The passage has been edited. It was taken from a review on the book Fertility and Pleasure: Ritual and Sexual Values in Tokugawa Japan.


End file.
